


How I Miss Yesterday

by glackedandmullered



Series: When Tomorrow Comes [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: amnesia au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3086390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glackedandmullered/pseuds/glackedandmullered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was one thing waking up only to find he didn't recognise anything around him, it was another thing entirely to learn he had to do that every damn day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Miss Yesterday

Waking up, Michael was met with an unfamiliar sight. 

This wasn’t his parents place. The walls were too plain, lacking his gaming posters and dark blue paint. He sat up quickly, noting as well, that he was in a double bed - not just a double, it looked like a double kingsize or something - with sheets covering him that looked like rainbow puke, a myriad of colours slashing across the fabric in a mish mash of strokes. 

Pushing himself out of the bed he staggered sideways, his eyes catching the window and the sights beyond it - that wasn’t his street. 

Where the fuck was he?

Blinking rapidly, he realized his vision was blurry because he was lacking his glasses. They were on the bedside table, on top of a sheet of paper - not mine, he thought - but they cleared up his vision perfectly. No, the bedspread didn’t look any better with them on. 

Once the world was in focus, he took a look at the sheet of paper. It was folded over, the front marked up with thick black writing which he didn’t recognise. His hands were shaking as he held it.

**READ ME**

Feeling a little like he had stepped into a horror movie, Michael turned his back to the wall, peering around the room in full before unfolding the crease. Inside, the text was typed up, all in black in a nice rounded font. 

_First of all, take a deep breath and calm down, you always panic when you wake up._

Michael’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion but dimly found himself taking the written advice, letting his lungs fill and empty half a dozen times before continuing.

 _Secondly, you haven’t been kidnapped, this is your house._ Beside the neat font someone had scribbled an extra note in green marker, **fancy innit.**

_He’s a brief run down for you_ **(brief at your request)** _You were in an accident. Don’t worry, you’re fine now, that was 6 years ago. You suffered a-_ the next few words had been blacked out, scribbled over roughly and the words **medical jargon** had been penciled in below - _and it affected your memory. The reason you think you’re in New Jersey right now is because only your short term memory was compromised. You’re in Austin, TX now._

_My name is Jack, go to the bathroom, you’ll see me there - and everyone else too. Don’t be too concerned when you don’t recognize us, your accident came first, we followed after. You forget us every time you sleep but it’s okay, we’re coping, and so are you._

_If no one is around, we’re probably downstairs. Take a look around before you come to see us._

_See you soon._

Dropping the letter back onto the side, Michael ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. He’d been in an accident. What kind of accident he didn’t know, he may never know, but the fact that this was really happening hit him like a freight train.

Scattered all around him were sticky notes in varying colors, shapes, and sizes. Michael plucked one at random off the wall behind the bed and read it with a smile.

_No a lion did not eat a parrot and throw up on those sheets._

The one next to it carried on the thought, 

_yes you picked those godawful sheets._

Michael found himself frowning at his own decor choices as he stuck the note back to the wall. His bare feet were cold against the wooden floor as he turned around and allowed his attention to be drawn to the door on the other side of the room. 

_**BATHROOM**_

That sign was painted directly onto the wood, and for some reason Michael felt a weight in his stomach at the knowledge that he would forget where a goddamn _bathroom_ was. 

_Go to the bathroom, you’ll see me there -_ the note had read, and it was with apprehension that Michael edged towards it. Would this man - woman? - be in the room waiting for him? With an unknown number of other people? Was he about to get tackled, or punked?

Before anything else, the first thing Michael saw when opening the bathroom door, was his reflection. And boy, oh boy, did he need a double take - or triple - on that shit. In his head he was 20 years old, short but thin, curly hair in a constant state of bed head. In front of him stood a well built, slender but well cut, man with a neatly trimmed quaff of hair that was only slightly messed up from sleeping. Six years, he reminded himself, thinking back to the letter. He was 26, and man he had changed. 

Before he saw his reflection he could have believe this to be a joke, a laugh at his expense from one of his old friends, but no. No this was definitely all falling into truth.

No one else was in the small space, there was barely enough room for a single person to stand comfortably with the bath to his left, shower and toilet to his right keeping him facing the mirror. 

Letting his attention drift away from his reflection, Michael noticed that, just about the towel rack there were 5 photographs. They appeared to have been taken on an old polaroid camera, the pictures lined with a thick rim of white, names scribbled below in different sets of handwriting. 

A small pink note with an arrow pointing down towards the photos sat just below a longer, thinner one, this handwriting he recognized, it was his. 

_These are your soul mates, yes you found them._

Again, it was his handwriting that was scribbled onto the last note in the bathroom, taped off centre and skewed, the edges curling up like it had been there a while. 

_Turns out there were five. Who would have guessed?_

Letting out a little ‘pfft’ Michael took a moment to examine the faces. 

The first in the row was a chubbier guy with glasses, a thick ginger beard, and a warm smile, _-Jack_ was written, slightly smudged, underneath. The guy who had written the letter. 

Beside him was a thinner, younger man with a mop of black hair and thick rimmed glasses. The grin on his face was toothy and over exaggerated, his eyes cast slightly to the side like he was relaying something to the person behind the camera. Michael’s heart tingled with some foreign feeling. _-Ray (your favorite)_ had been squashed into the space in handwriting so messy, Michael had to squint to read it properly. He gently touched a finger to the scribbled heart that accompanied the words, it didn’t match the marker that had been used to write the name, as he traced the edges he felt like he knew the pattern well. 

The middle photo looked a lot cleaner, more recent than the rest. While the edges on the other four were starting to yellow and curl up, this one looked pristine and new. The guy in the centre wasn’t sat against a blank wall like the others, it looked like the picture had been taken in an office of some sort. A computer monitor poked out from behind his back the screen glowing. _-Geoff_ ** _(who changed his facial hair AGAIN)_** he read, his lips tugging up into a smile as he examined the thin, tired looking face. Messy hair, a ring through one ear, and a handlebar mustache that looked out of place and yet so right above his lip. 

The fourth man was sitting a lot closer to the camera, his sandy, birds nest hair covering almost half the frame while the rest was taken up by a hilariously large nose and dumb half smiling expression. ~~_-Gavino_~~ had been crossed out and **-fucking Gavin** written in it’s place. 

A sticky note shaped like a cloud had been taped to the bottom, adding extra room for the note _this one is stupidly British_ to be tacked on.

The final man was simply looking directly into camera. Neat blonde hair on his head and a regular, honest, closed lip smile beamed out at Michael. _-Ryan_

He gave them all another fleeting glance, committing the faces to a memory he realized, belatedly, would leave him soon enough.

Luckily, the hallway outside of the bedroom was small, with a clear path to where he was meant to go. Only one other door set into the wall gave him another room to check but he didn’t even try the handle, instead squinting at the hot pink note stuck to the wood. 

_We love you._

It felt like muscle memory as he reached up to peel the note off, the barely tacky glue on the other side feeling gooey on his fingers. It was still in his hands as he shuffled towards the stairs only a couple of feet across from the two doors. 

He couldn’t help the grin that blossomed on his face when he noticed another, larger note taped to the banister. 

_Put that note back. **You do it every fucking day, dude.**_

Taking a couple of steps back, he pressed the tacky side back to the wood, it peeled up at the edges, threatening to fall and dimly Michael thought that tomorrow - even though he wouldn’t recall today - that note may be taped with something stronger. 

Along the wall to his left as he descended the stairs, photo frames made of wood and metal hung from the painted surface. They were slightly crooked and looked old but they each had a photograph held securely behind the glass of Michael, surrounded by the men from the shots in the bathroom. 

They were sat on the couch as Michael wandered down. Four heads lined up, the rest of them hidden by the back of the seat, but they made no move to turn around as Michael’s quiet footsteps approached. 

The kitchen straight ahead was lit up brightly, someone tall and chunky passing from one side to the other, a mixing bowl in his hands as he gathered ingredients from cupboards high and low. 

He, unlike everyone else, turned around as he heard the tiny thumps on the hardwood. He grinned warmly in greeting, his beard hiding most of his lips.

“Hi Michael,”

Michael leaned against the door frame and smiled. 

“Hi, Jack.”


End file.
